Ceres woke with the sun on her face. Groaning, she turned away and pulled the blanket over her head in a futile attempt to prolong her slumber. Unfortunately for her, the warmth of the sun seeping through the blanket coupled with her trapped body heat made for an uncomfortable sleeping arrangement.

Sighing in frustration, she threw the blanket off and groped around blindly on her bedside table for her glasses. She didn’t find them.

Had she knocked them off the table in her sleep?

Sighing again, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Stretching luxuriously, she yawned and opened her eyes.

She froze mid-yawn as she took in the sight of the world in absolute clarity. Raising her hand, she felt around her eyes. Nope, she hadn’t gone to sleep with her glasses on. She blinked. Her unaided vision was still clear, not the blur she was accustomed to.

“Oh!” she exclaimed as the last bit of sleepiness left her and her memories of the previous night came rushing back.

After five days of intensive study and preparation under the guidance of the Saintess, Mars had finally deemed himself familiar enough with the surgery that if anything went wrong, he would be able to tell. Then yesterday night, he had asked her to put herself to sleep while the Saintess operated on her.

Looking down at her blanket, Ceres was able to distinguish the fine weave of the cloth. It seemed that the operation had been a resounding success.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she turned to stare out of the window, squinting slightly against the sunlight bouncing off the golden dunes rushing past.

Husband had kept his promise. He had sworn that he would find a way to cure her eyes, and much earlier than expected, he had.

Not that she had ever doubted that he would. He was her husband, after all. Anything he set his mind to; he would accomplish. It was only a matter of time.

She knew that he had the misconception that she had no expectations from him. He couldn't have been further from the truth. It seemed that she expected nothing, because she had blind faith that he would achieve everything.

Since the day he had snatched her from the jaws of death, she had been convinced that her husband was the protagonist of this era. And till date, nothing had managed to convince her otherwise. One just had to take a closer look at all the major events of the previous year. Every single one had Mars’ shadow. If he hadn’t been the subject of the event, he had been instrumental in resolving it.

But she hadn’t bothered to correct Mars. She quite liked how much he was able to relax in her presence. She didn’t want to ruin that for him.

That her apparent lack of expectations had made her his current favourite wife hadn’t been a factor in her decision making. Nope, not at all.

Shaking herself out of her daze, she got out of the bed. Standing up, she performed a few light stretches to work the kinks out of her muscles. She might not be as athletic as the rest of her sister-wives, or as dedicated to her exercise regime, but she liked her early morning stretches. They kept her limber for the rest of the day and prepared her back and shoulders for the extended hours of reading she would put them through. Finishing by touching her toes, she straightened up and walked out of her compartment.

The aroma of breakfast assaulted her nose and her stomach growled in anticipation.

Phobos’ ears twitched and she looked up at her with a smile form her seat at the table. “You woke at the right time; he’s just about done.”

It seemed that it was Mars’ turn in the kitchen.

Taking her seat at the table, Ceres cast a glance at the empty seats. Deimos was probably being her tardy self again and still drooling into her pillow. Artemis should be finishing with her morning training right about now and would join them after a shower. Hei Lian, being a mana construct, didn’t need to eat and was probably holed up in her private carriage doing whatever it was that doppelgangers did when no one was watching.

“Should I go call her?” Ceres asked.

“The Saintess? No need. I checked in on her just some time ago. She was awake and braiding her hair. She’ll come over when she’s done.”

Ceres nodded. She involuntarily reached up and ran a hand through her hair. The Saintess had really nice hair. When she didn’t have it in a braid, it covered her chocolate coloured back like a curtain of clouds. It wasn’t white, not exactly. It had a beautiful pearlescent sheen when it caught the light at an angle. And the diamond studded silver chains she braided it with brought out its beauty even more.

Ceres wondered idly if she should grow out her hair. How would her cinnamon hair look if she too let it grow out and braided it like the Saintess. Would Mars like it better that way?

‘Spending more than an hour each morning teasing every strand into place… not to mention the hour to take it all off at night. And the care required to maintain the sheen... Nah. It’s too much work’

‘Besides,’ she thought. ‘It can't be comfortable having that much hair and jewellery hanging off her head all day. It must feel so heavy.’

No. She was fine with her light and breezy cropped hairdo. Mars had said she looked cute with short hair. She’d leave gorgeous for Phobos and Artemis. And no one could take adorable from Deimos. But cute… she could work with cute.

Windchimes tinkled as the Saintess walked into the compartment and sat down at the table, looking as immaculately dressed as ever.

This morning, she wore a sleeveless black vest that hugged the contours of her body like a second skin. Over it, she wore a diamond of white cloth attached to her by four laces, one pair knotted behind her neck and the other between her shoulder blades. It left her back and sides bare without actually revealing any skin. This was coupled with a pair of high-waist, low-crotch cotton trousers that were loose around her thighs and fit snugly around her slender calves. Her leather bandolier was adjusted to fit around her waist like a broad, many-pocketed belt.

The simple dress set off her elaborate hairdo and her pale hair was accentuated by her dark skin, resulting in a calculated clash of contrasts. The only dash of colour in her outfit came from the numerous sapphire-encrusted silver bangles around her wrists and her matching blue and silver sandals. The lower half of her face was covered by a translucent white veil and her liquid brown eyes were lined by kohl, adding a bit of mystery to them.

For all she scoffed at the amount of time it took, Ceres had to admit that the results of the Saintess’ efforts were spectacular. Though she did wonder… what was the point of dressing up? As far as she knew, the Saintess fell square into the ‘eternal virgin’ stereotype. Like Artemis, she didn’t need to marry if she didn’t want to. Indeed, her Cult had built something of a myth around it… about how their Saintess was married to their God.

So, unless she had designs on Mars, dressing up had probably become something of a habit of hers. Seeing that today would be her last day travelling on the train with them, it was likely the latter.

“We’ll be reaching Cairo in an hour,” said Mars as he came in balancing trays full of food and laid them on the table. “Your escorts have contacted our train. They’ll be waiting to receive you at the station.”

The Saintess nodded.

“Thank you,” she said as Mars placed an omelette in front of her.

“A slight effort.” Turning to Ceres, he asked, “How are your eyes? Any problems?”

“They’re fine, great, really. I see better than I did with my glasses now.”

Mars let out a relieved breath and smiled one of his trademark room-brightening smiles.

“Yesterday was more stressful than fighting the elemental, even. I suppose I understand now why they don’t allow doctors to operate on their close relatives. I wouldn't want to repeat the experience.”

Ceres turned to the Saintess. “Thank you. Please don’t hesitate to tell me if you ever have anything I can help you with.”

“I will,” she said, cutting a piece off the omelette with her knife, spearing it with her fork and putting it in her mouth underneath her veil.

The chimes tinkled again and Deimos entered the compartment, stretching and yawning, her hair disheveled. “G-good morning” she managed around another yawn.

“Oi. At least brush your hair!” Phobos reprimanded, pointing at her with her fork.

“I’ll do that later, ya. I’m hungry now,” Deimos replied as she pulled a chair and took her seat.

Phobos was just about to continue when the sudden clatter of a fork onto a plate followed by a loud thud drew the attention of the occupants of the table.

They whipped around to find the Saintess with her face in her food, unmoving.

Mars, who was closest to her, toppled his chair as he shot up to his feet and pulled her straight by her shoulders. Her head rolled back lifelessly as she slumped against the back of her chair.

He placed his fingers against the side of her neck.

After a moment, he pulled them away, his expression unprecedentedly grim.

“There’s no pulse,” he whispered.